State of Mind
by free elf 25
Summary: You are his soldier now. Sequel 'Out of Mind' published.
1. Ice

**_Author's Note_**

_Usually I leave these until afterwards, but EEP! My first proper story on this site! However, I must warn you that there are SERIOUS SPOILERS for Captain America: The Winter's Soldier (which I finally saw today, ending in this little creation) so don't read if you want everything to be all wowza's and GASP when you see it. Other than that, hope you enjoy! :)_

* * *

"Is he awake?"

Those were the first words Bucky Barnes ever heard when he was no longer Bucky Barnes. He didn't know who, or where, or when he was. The last thing burnt into his mind was an outstretched hand far above him, a trail of red on a white background, and a blinding pain while a voice promised it would all be okay. But it wasn't.

His eyes adjusted to the bright light. The point where the pain had started was numb. It rose into the air, fingers moving just when he wanted them to. _It's metal. _No. It was flesh. _He_ was flesh.

"He is. Oh God, he's awake. Get the doctor in here!" A face came up close to his. It was ratty and weak, a childlike excitement clouding the fear in his small eyes. "How are you feeling? I'm doc-"

The silver hand clasped itself around the man's throat and squeezed. His voice annoyed him just as much as his stupid face did. So innocent, so childlike. So pointless. The fear grew and grew until it consumed those tiny eyes, tears falling on to the metallic surface of his skin. Was it all like this, he wondered? Did he and this man have nothing in common, not even the material of their thoughts or their flesh? The hand released the man as soon as the panic disappeared and the thin claws stopped scrabbling for air.

Instead of attending to the gathered audience around him, he glanced over the room and himself. He had a strong form clad in a too-small hospital gown, though you could see that the rest of him was clearly not metal. It was light and creamy and taunt across his muscles, still up by a few dozen upgrades compared to the rat man's. His eyes travelled back to the odd one out, a silver limb held to his torso by twirling wires and bubbled flesh.

"What did you do to me?" His voice was deep, with a harsh but wary tone. He sounded older than he looked, older than he felt. Nothing seemed to be fitting with the image he had gathered in his head.

"We saved you. And now you're in our debt." The man, the same voice which came along with the memories of blinding pain, appeared in his vision. Unlike the other spectators, there was no fear lurking in his eyes, only awe and pride. A father looking upon his son. _A scientist staring at his experiment,_ his mind added bitterly.

Nothing seemed to be fitting, he thought again, the words harsher and bolder in his mind. Not the metal or the flesh or the strangling or the memories or the bitter voice in the back of his head which sounded a lot like his own, only alive. Did that mean he was dead?

"Freeze him. As soon as he wakes up, he'll be ready to follow orders."

Before he could react, his arm was being clamped into place behind his back with some sort of magnetic handcuff. Four doctors shoved him backwards into a small coffin against the wall, the man glowing the entire time.

"Wait. Who are you...who am I? Please!" His voice was drowned out by the door slamming. Everyone but the scientist, the _creator_, left the room, only him remaining to be beckoned closer by his pleading eyes.

"You are my achievement. Don't fail me. And please, do get comfortable- you're going to be here for a while."

Instead of carrying on screaming and fighting like that voice in his head wanted him to, something forced his muscles to relax and his eyes to close. _It's alright,_ the new voice whispered. _Don't you trust him? He created you. He saved you. You are in his debt. You are **his** soldier now._

Just before the creator pressed the final button, the first voice screamed one last time and his entire body flinched. A strand of long brown hair fell forward into his eyes, but he couldn't brush it away as the coffin was filling with freezing air and his lungs were burning and he couldn't feel his toes and his arm was shaking and someone was screaming...

The last thought before he fell asleep was wondering when his hair had grown so long. It hadn't been five minutes since he and Steve had-


	2. Soldier

He woke up cold. Every bone was frosted with ice, his hair dangling like icicles in front of his face. A supressed shiver sent his teeth knocking against each other.

"Is he safe?"

Is who safe? Was he safe? His eyes hurtled down his body, gazing at the metallic glint of his fingertips with a strong sense of deja-vu. _Have I...?_

"Yes. He's our soldier now."

"What do we call him?"

"We call him soldier, and nothing else. If that name is mentioned anywhere remotely close to his vicinity, the person mentioning it will be discarded immediately. Understood? We've waited too long for this; no one's going to mess it up now."

The cold was beginning to leave his body, replacing it with a warm fuzziness, building up inside of his veins, ready to explode. Inside his mind was still blank. No memories or names, no recollection of who he was. Just standard protocols.

"Hello soldier. Welcome to 1968. Enjoy your beauty sleep?"

Something inside of him twitched at that. The man was lying to him. The man with the blonde hair and the long nose and the green eyes who looked too thin and greedy to even be mistaken for his creator. _Creator._

"We have a mission for you, and once you've completed it, you can go straight back inside that little coffin of yours. Is that okay?"

He nodded, because that was the only thing he knew to do. The man had given him orders, and he was the soldier, so he must obey them.

But even as he completed the mission (which was confusing and messy and had no set purpose that he could find) and was returned to his ice box, that unfamiliar heaviness in his chest wouldn't stop mulling over 1968 and icicles of hair.

* * *

"Who are you?" He growled, trying to push away the men that were clamped to his arms. It was 1993, and he'd just finished another mission. His mind had adjusted to the constantly changing dates, and had finally learnt not to talk back to his commander's. The creator was dead. He was their soldier.

"We're called Hydra. We're the ones who saved you all those years ago. It is very kind of you to be serving us after all this time."

The men sat him down in a chair, wrapping straps around his waist and legs. "I'm in debt to you. You saved my life and my..." His voice trailed off, flexing the silver fingers on his left hand. Images were flashing through his head, of a blinding pain as they sawed deep into his shoulder, promising that they were going to make it better...

"There it is. I'm sorry, soldier, but it appears the wards that we built in your mind are beginning to fall down. You might feel a slight pinch, followed by excruciating pain. Don't worry- you won't remember any of it."

The man smiled through young eyes, watching gleefully as one man shoved a piece of rubber into his mouth while the other clicked away at a computer behind him. Everything was fitting, the missing pieces of the jigsaw finally being found. It was 1942. It was cold. It was red.

A surge of energy rushed into his head, blanking out any previous thoughts. _It was...red...42...was...it's red..._

From the corner of the room, the man kept on smiling, watching Bucky Barnes flail and scream as he disappeared once more.

* * *

The Winter Soldier.

He liked it. The name seemed quite fitting, though he didn't understand why. Maybe because 'The Summer Soldier' sounded like a soppy romance.

An engine revved. He broke out of his daydream, making sure everything was ready. The mission was to ambush the vehicle and eliminate those being protected. The protectors were only to be killed as a last resort.

In the pale of the mountain, a truck with a bird caught in mid-flight on the side tripped on the traps he'd placed, turning over into the snow beside the road. His gun rang out four times, returning bullets barely chipping his armour.

Three threats down, two to go.

From the wreckage, two forms were emerging. One was a target, one was a protector. She (the protector) wore a skin-tight suit with her hair tied up, a few red curls falling lose. Six bullets bounced off his figure before she retreated, attempting to cover the threat with her own body. He smirked behind his mask.

The two fell to the ground, blood pouring from the wounds in their stomachs. She was still alive, scrabbling for her gun while the thumping of helicopters echoed around the mountain walls.

"You're a ghost." She whispered, fingers trying to cover the blood as it oozed out from her flesh. He'd missed her stomach.

Instead of replying, he fired a single shot at the final target, and walked away. By the time the helicopters arrived, he was gone, and she was unconscious.

* * *

It took three more brainwashes and another two years in the ice to get him to this moment. A group of young scientists were huddled in the room, watching him with wide eyes.

"These are our new recruits, soldier. Please be nice to them. You'll need to prepare- you have a big mission coming up. HYDRA is launching." The man grinned once more and left, the recruits scampering after him. Only one paused, casting her eyes over him in worry. He could tell she wasn't a volunteer by the blood under her nails and the fear in her eyes.

With a single nod, he walked out the door and down to the firing range. They'd had a new range of bombs in and he'd been ordered to check them out.

It was 2011.


	3. Psychology

Iris Williams didn't want to join HYDRA. She was clever, with knowledge of weapons and self-protection (a black belt in karate amongst other martial arts) The only reason she was here was because she slipped up. She blew her cover.

Her issue wasn't that she didn't get along with her family. Ben and Tilly, her older siblings, were already a few years into their training at SHIELD, but they were still close. Tilly was working in Operations, while Ben was one year into Computer Sciences. Iris' issue was that she didn't get into SHIELD full stop. No letters of consideration, no meetings with the Heads, absolutely nothing. She'd missed the IQ by one point, and she was too short and thin to join their forces. So, like any mature nineteen year old, she ran away, hiding in the streets of New York for a few days.

That was where they found her. Cold and dark-eyed, waiting with a cigarette half-burnt in her mouth. All it took was one gun in her back and a whispered threat and there she was. A new recruit for the secret company that wanted to rule the world (as long as they didn't have to destroy it first)

She'd been expecting the underground facilities, fully armed with brand new weapons and science labs where you needed at least three layers of bio-suits before you could enter. What she hadn't been expecting was the assassin with a metal arm and frost in his hair.

"These are our new recruits, soldier. Please be nice to them. You'll need to prepare- you have a big mission coming up. HYDRA is beginning its preparation for launch."

The rest of the recruits followed the blonde man who she faintly recognised from pictures her sister had brought home in her revision books. Instead of following, she paused, giving the man a once over. He was tall with brown hair, his body covered in a black suit, not unlike the ones SHIELD agents wore. Something black was rubbed in around his eyes, like the remnants of a Saturday night's makeup.

Brown eyes glanced from her hands to her clothes to her face. She fidgeted under his gaze. With a single nod, he walked past her out of the door and down the corridor. She followed, searching for the rest of the 'recruits'.

The corridor was empty.

"Crap. Erm, excuse me!" She called after the man. He didn't stop. "Oi! Hello? Soldier!" The final word she barked, causing him to freeze mid-step. Her worry setting back in, she ran to catch up with him, stopping just by his left side. "Hi. I'm Iris, one of the recruits. Would you mind helping me find them again, because I don't really know my way around, and I've kinda lost them..."

He looked down at her, brow furrowed. Brown eyes held her grey ones, looking as perplexed as a child. Iris resisted the urge to poke him, just to make sure he was a fully-functioning human and not a robot.

With a final tilt of his head, he carried on walking down the corridors, forcing her to hurry behind him.

"Hi? Are you taking me somewhere, or just ignoring me? Because if I get lost and die or something, I'm totally suing-"

She smashed into his back, not realising that he'd stopped walking. Rubbing her forehead, she looked around him to see a door. Behind it they could hear the murmuring voice of the blonde-haired man, occompanied by the whispers from the excitable recruits.

"Oh. Thanks. Are you-" She turned just in time to see him disappear down the corridor, hands clenched in fists by his sides. Deflated, she opened the door and stood by the wide-eyed audience, wondering yet again why she was here.

* * *

"Psychology."

Iris took a long sip of water during the 'dramatic' pause the blonde-haired man took. He'd called her into his office to discuss her future here, and she was still having to resist the urge to tell him that she didn't _want_ a future here. All she wanted to do was blow this place up and get the hell out of it...maybe not in that order.

"It's your area of expertise, and the area we've been struggling in. There's a mind we work with here that is very...confusing. Procedures that used to last for years now only last for months. We need you to reset it. Understood?"

She rose her brows quizzingly. "Not really. I'll need medical files on the patient and in depth research on the procedures you're talking about, as well as a proper looks on the equipment and probably the patient themself. Even after that, I might not be able to do anything- the mind is a hard thing to control for so long, and I am only nineteen. You might be better with a proper psycholo-"

"Too much suspicion. If a 'proper psychologist' or brain scientist disappeared, people would care. No offense."

"None taken." She murmured, wondering how the disappearance of a nineteen-year-old girl with strong relations in the government would matter so much less than a donkey's old psychologist.

"Anyway, the files are all here, except for the ones you're not authorised to see. As for seeing to the patient..."

The door behind them opened, followed by three heavy footsteps. Iris could practically feel their ankles bashing together in an army stance.

"Soldier, meet Iris. Iris...meet your patient."

She turned, looking at the soldier. His eyes were trained on her, a glimmer of recognition in them before they were wiped clean. Indifferent. She turned back to the files, opening to the first page.

**_Name- _**

**_Age- _**

**_History-_ **

"Sir...it's all been wiped." She said hesitantly. Every page in the soldier's file was blocked out by black rectangles, right up until activity from three days ago. The man smirked.

"Like I said- you only have the files you're _authorised_ to see, and only I am allowed to see all of the soldier's files. I hope you two get along nicely."

He smirked once more, shutting the door loudly behind him. The soldier didn't move.

_Crap._


	4. Documents

"So...hi." The girl smiled nervously, her hands wrapping around each other constantly in her lap. He looked down at them, trying to figure out why she thought that would make her any less nervous.

"Do you talk? Because I've met you before and you didn't talk then either, so it would probably make this much easier if I knew whether or not I could actually have a conversation with you..."

He stayed silent. The last moment that had been as awkward as this in Iris' life was when her mother wanted to set Tilly up with her ex.

"Wait..." Pieces of the man-shaped jigsaw began to take a little more form. "I have to order you to, don't I? Erm, okay. Soldier. I demand that you reply when I'm talking to you. And act normal...ish."

For a second she almost saw a glimmer of a laugh behind his eyes, but then it was gone, easily mistaken for a trick of light. Indifference. It seemed to be his natural state.

With a sag of disappointment in her shoulders, she turned to the files left on the desk. His personal file was practically blank, only including his new cover.

**Name-** THE WINTER SOLDIER

**Origin-** RUSSIA

**Job-** ASSASSIN. UNDER COMMAND OF HYDRA SINCE 1942.

She reread the last part. And then double-checked. Did the maths on her fingers. Triple-checked it.

"So...you've been under the command of HYDRA for 69 years. Impressive. How old must that make you? 80-something? Looking good for such an old man." She grinned carelessly at him, the familiar bitterness on her tongue. If he looked at her eyes right now, he'd see the malice she usually held for her parents. It came with ease since joining HYDRA (unwillingly, she insisted inside of her head).

"I've been under the command of HYDRA for 12 missions. I am under 30 years old, as 30 is my termination date." He recited, looking slightly lost with his furrowed brow and wide brown eyes. Quite adorable for an assassin.

"Termination...give me a few minutes." Ignoring the large chances of paper cuts, she flicked through the files at speed, trying to find what she was looking for.

_'The subject is to be placed back in the ice once it has completed the set mission(s). This procedure may affect his body structure, so once he has reached 30 years outside of the ice, he is to be terminated to avoid issues involving his physical/mental health as well as the integrity. of the missions sets.' _

"So...do you know how many years you have spent outside of the ice? Or in it, for that matter?"

He didn't seem used to questions like this, or questions at all, as he took some time to answer. An adorable assassin with robotic tendencies; every girls dream. "I do not know. My first mission was set in 1968. I wasn't told the specific days or times."

She smiled sympathetically at him, realising that it went wasted. He was a sociopath- totally incapable of feeling or recognising emotions. "It's 14th of November, 2011. Now if you excuse me, _soldier_, I have some reading to do."

He waited until she was half-way out the door to ask. Her nervous hands almost dropped the files at his unprovoked voice.

"What am I supposed to do now?"

He asked it quietly, like he was worried about getting scolded. That nurturing feeling returned to her stomach, the urge to wrap her arms around him and promise him it'll all be okay. Maybe removing the machine gun strapped to his back while she was at it.

"Go back to your room to sleep, or to the firing range. Whatever you normally do around here. Just tell your commander that I couldn't start proper meetings until I'd read the facts, and I'll arrange one later. Okay?" She smiled at him, waiting for him to nod back. Her insides clung to the hint of a smile in his eyes, knowing that whatever was written in these files was going to try and burn any good thoughts she had about it.

* * *

_TWS has served HYDRA since 1943, and has carried out over a dozen missions during that time. With a mixture of initial training during WW2 and what we have taught him here, he has become one of the greatest assassins on this planet, and the least known. With most of his witnesses deceased, whether by murder or old age, the survivors' tales have all been written off as ghost stories. _

_During his time here he has been under the guide of many trainers and doctors. Enclosed is some of the files written by those doctors. Some names and dates may have been removed due to the reader's clearance level. _

**_Dr Watford- TWS _**

_**Day 1-** still asleep following operation _

_**Day 2**- patient has shown signs of life, though none in the new arm. Worries of more modifications are taking place in fellow doctor's minds _

_**Day 3-** the patient woke up for a short while, but seemed to be completely unaware of his surroundings. Our guess is a fever from the metals in the arm. He has been given numerous drugs to try and fix it, and was forced back into unconsciousness. _

_**Day 5-** Since original wakening, the patient has remained in a fitful sleep with a dangerously high temperature. Doctor - has refused the option of leaving the experiment behind, and instead insists on us healing him _

_**Day 8-** the fever is over, and he will be waking up soon. With the new instalments to his mind, as the other doctors put it, we don't know what his reaction will be _

_**Day 9-** patient showed severe anger and malice once wakening. We were refused allowance for experimentations on him as Doctor - put him in the ice chamber almost immediately after he woke. One man was killed. The experiment is over. _

**_Doctor Madison- Personal Log on Activities of 'The Winter Soldier' _**

_On - in 19-, - - was recovered from the mountainside in -. Previously a war prisoner in -, he was the only surviving prisoner who survived the experiments conducted of him. He had survived the fall due to the alien substances in his blood. Substance is unable to be traced or named. The patient had however injured his left arm, so to prevent any issues during future fights, it was removed and replaced by a metal prototype. _

_While he was unconscious, a small brain surgery was conducted on him to try and prevent him from remembering his previous memories and orders. However, once awake, he instead had two minds, one of - - and the others of the soldier. The doctor's working on him then froze him. _

_He has been under the command of 6 different men at HYDRA, the latest being - -. _

_Though the ice seemed to help keep his memories at bay, after half a dozen missions outside the ice box he was beginning to remember again. Physical and mental tests also showed a deterioration of his muscles and mind when outside of the ice box. Whether this deterioration will slow with time away from the ice or speed up is unknown as his commander's are unwilling to risk his assets. _

_To prevent the deterioration, I and a few other of his doctors estimated how long it would be until he fell below battle requirements, as well as developing a new way to keep his memories of - - at bay. The patient was strapped to the new machine, where a wire contraption is placed over his head and sends electricity pulsing through it. Though it puts the patient in severe pain during the half hour procedure, it is an effective way to wipe his mind, making him forget original memories and memories collected during his time at HYDRA._

Below the writing was a set of pictures. One was of the soldier lying on a table, half of the metal arm moulded into his flesh. The next was of the chair in the room she'd visited when she first saw him, the seat empty and the sides caked with dry blood and nail marks. A final picture showed a face with a few frozen strands of hair fallen over his forehead, a body wrapped in a frozen coffin with a single window. At the bottom was written four words.

_**THE WINTER SOLDIER, 1943.** _

* * *

Leaving the files on her bed, she got up and vomited three time into the toilet next to her room, brushing the loose strands to the back of her head.

That night their next meeting was set up, she sat quietly and ate her dinner beside the recruits, and burnt the covers of the files given to her, all the while ignoring the bile that rose in her throat whenever she thought of the blonde-haired man and a coffin of ice.

* * *

**_Author's Note_**

_I just want to thank everyone who's reviewed, followed, and/or favourited. You guys are all awesome :) Also, apology for the short-ish chapters (this ones longer than the last few though!) I was trying to make them longer but I guess this'll have to do. :)_


	5. Fists

**WARNING-** scene of violence coming up. I wouldn't say it's that bad, but still- if you've got a weak stomach or don't like stuff like that, I'd skip it.

* * *

"Tell me about yourself."

The soldier stared at her uncomfortably, like he already knew that she knew that the question was useless. Everything he knew was in the file she'd read (and burnt) last night.

"I'm a soldier under the command of HYDRA. I've killed approximately 35 people purposefully. I have brown hair and brown eyes."

Was that sarcasm? She'd definitely detected some sarcasm behind that impassive tone.

"Don't play stupid, soldier. Do I have to call you soldier? I'm going to call you Timmy. Is that okay Timmy? Will you answer to Timmy?"

He nodded, but not before she saw the smile in his eyes.

"Okay Timmy, I'm going to tell you straight. Your files? They don't say much. Yes, there was a lot of writing, and I mean a _lot_, but it was all science and post-arm. I want to know you, but to do that, you need to know you. Understand Timmy?"

The man, who looked older than her by a good five years or more, hesitated. "Not really. There is no pre-arm. This is who I've always been."

"No, it really hasn't." Iris smiled sympathetically. All night she'd been plagued by nightmares of waking up a nobody. No memories, no dreams, just a collection of orders and a gun to carry them out. It would break her, even if she wouldn't know why. "Let's start with some simple mental exercises, okay? And if your commander asks, I'm just doing science-y stuff. No talking or exercises involved. Understand Timmy?"

While getting the equipment she'd sneaked in from one of the offices, she heard his muttered reply, that tone of sarcasm returning. "Yes ma'am."

* * *

The commander glared at her from across the table, staring at the half-filled sheet of paper in front of him.

"This? This is all you've gathered?" He growled, blonde fringe sticking to his sweat covered forehead.

"I told you sir. It'll take time, and without the proper information on the procedures used, it will take even more time."

"The files contained everything you should need to-"

"The files contained nothing!" Her voice shrieked a bit at the end, silencing the commander. Breathing deeply, she carried on in a calmer voice. "There were only hints to the procedures used, and nothing of detail. All I know is that it started with brain surgery and ended with the electric shocks. What I _need_ to know is what sort of brain surgery and where the shocks were directed, and at what level. Is that okay? Is that information allowed inside of my clearance level?"

The commander smiled a sickly smile, leaning in at her across the table. "Of course, Miss Williams. But next time you interrupt or raise your voice at me, the deal's off. And I'll make you watch. Understood?"

A snarl of his mouth and a flick of his sweat stained fringe, the commander left the room, ordering one of the soldiers outside to receive the files for her. In a whispered tone similar to Timmy's earlier that day, she hissed "understood, your fucking highness."

* * *

"...of voltage per minute, all directed to his- that's impossible! How could he survive that once, let alone four times?" Iris exclaimed to herself in the room. It was like a prison cell, except with no bars or locks. A wire bed with one well used pillow and blanket, a small chest of drawers, and a bathroom holding a toilet, sink, mirror, and a shower she preferred not to use for too long. It felt like the mould and general ickiness would find it's way underneath her skin and tangle itself around her hair.

Outside in the hall, a rusty bell clanged its signal for dinner. Sighing, she followed the trial of people to the hall, where she sat down just a seat or two away from the other recruits her age. Tonight they all glared at her simultaneously before turning back to their hushed whispers and lumpy soup.

There was no miracle or anything during her dinner of cold spaghetti, just a hopeful interpretation. She caught Timmy's eyes over the bustle people, and his face glimmered in the ghost of a smile. He almost looked human.

* * *

"Oi, Williams!"

Not good, not good. When she was in New York, the word 'oi', especially when shouted in that sort of tone, was your cue to start speed walking away. The running was for when they started chasing you.

"I know you can hear us Williams. So stop running and face us."

"I'm not running; I'm speed walking." She called back inadvertently, almost slapping herself in the face when she realised she'd done so. Slowing to a stop, she faced her followers.

They were the recruits. The guys stood at the front, their girls standing behind with sharpened nails and malicious grins.

"We were rather upset when we discovered that you, our dear hostage, had control over some soldier business instead of us. After all, you're just a S.H.I.E.L.D. runaway; we _wanted_ to be here. So, instead of letting yourself go about thinking you're all high and mighty-"

"I don't think-"

"-we decided to teach you a lesson. Lesson 1- **don't** interrupt me."

The ringleader, armed with strawberry blonde curls and five other men, circled around her, stepping close enough so if his hand just brushed out a bit-

One of them punched her in the gut. Crippled over, she didn't see the leader as he raked his finger up her face, catching her eyes and yanking her head up by her ponytail.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Williams." He whispered into her ear, keeping tight hold as his 'friends' carried on aiming for her stomach, not knowing where else it was appropriate to hit a girl. One finally threw a hit at her face, crunching her nose underneath his hands. When she tried to fall, the leader kept her up, one arm wrapped around her waist.

"You're a nothing Williams. If we were to kill you right now, no one would care."

She was about to retort back with a 'then why are you going out of your way to torture me first?', despite the blood filling her mouth, but was interrupted by a girlish shriek from one of the beaters. This was followed by five ominous thumps and the instant release of her body, allowing her to finally crumble to the floor.

"Whoah man, calm down." The ringleaders voice was faint, shimmering like she was underwater. "It was just a little lesson, okay? Bit of a warm-up before the big games in a few weeks. You know what it's-"

A sickening crunch snapped through her thoughts, followed by another thump as the leader collapsed beside her, hands covering his bleeding face.

"If you were to kill her right now, _I_ would care." The attacker growled, stamping down on the leader's leg with one black boot. Iris' vision faded into crimson and iron, trying to place the harsh voice that dinged a metaphorical bell in her mind.

* * *

Iris woke up in a grey room. There was the stench of human sweat and blood and fear (aka 'hospital smell') but the only issue was that the walls were grey. If it was a hospital, they'd be white. Then Iris remembered she was underground somewhere in the central lair of a secret government / terrorist agency (she couldn't tell which) and decided that the colour of the walls didn't really matter.

Her bed was one of the three occupied out of 20. Each bed was armed with extra fluffy pillows and layers of blankets, along with space for medical equipment as big as those ones with all the needles and the breathing machine.

_No wonder you didn't get into S.H.I.E.L.D._

"Shut up." She growled at herself.

"Miss Williams? Are you awake?" Feeling her cheeks heat up, she pretended to be 'escaping' from the layers of blankets. "Yes, Mis- wait. Who...why...what?"

The nurse smiled at her sympathetically, pushing her down when she tried to get up. Only then did she remember the crunching of her nose and see the bandages wrapped around her middle. Her immediate reaction was to poke the centre of her stomach.

"Ouch!"

"Miss Williams! What is wrong with you?" The nurse scolded, fetching some medicine from her cabinet. Probably a tranquiliser to stop her patient from poking herself in her obviously bruised and possibly broken torso.

"Sorry. I was just curious. My mind's a bit out of it. How did I get here again?" If the subject changed too fast, the nurse didn't notice. Instead she sighed dreamily while measuring some liquid into a syringe.

"One of the soldier's found you while you were getting beaten up. Sorted out those boys and brought you back here- just in time too! A minute later and you would have been..."

Iris tuned her out, rapidly thinking back to the rough voice and the black boots.

"Timmy." She breathed out, feeling slightly weightless (though that might have been from the small sedater the nurse had just injected into her bloodstream)

"Huh? No, there's no Timmy's here Miss. He didn't actually say his name, just told me you'd need immediate seeing to and left."

A frown on her brow, the nurse left, probably to hunt down her knight in shining armour. Iris, however, relaxed back into the comfortable bed, letting the drug wash away any uncomfortable around the tight stitches and bandages.

_**I**__ would care._

* * *

**_Author's Note_**

_I think this chapter is the fastest one I've ever written. Literally just been done so apologies for any mistakes (I did check but not as thoroughly as I possibly could of) I was getting tired of writing 'soldier' all the time so worked that little titbit in there. Came in pretty handy ;) My laziness is also perceivable where I didn't bother to google brain stuff and figure out which part of Timmy's brain they'd have to shock to get him all soldier-style. And DEVELOPMENT! FEEL THE HUMANITY! _

_Anyway, hope you guys liked it. Reviews, anyone?_


	6. Conversations

Callused fingers stroked down the side of her face, so delicately she could barely feel them on the bruises.

The stale air around her shifted as their body leaned closer to hers, mouth next to her ear.

"Don't lie to me." A voice further away snarled. "You have no right to talk to me in that tone of voice, young lady!" A snap against her cheek. She whimpered.

The hand pressed coolly against her cheek, strands of hair tickling her cheeks. "Shh. It's okay. No ones here. You can go back to sleep Iris. It's okay."

A little unwillingly, she obeyed, forcing her eyes to stay closed and flutter back into sleep.

Iris woke up to dull sunlight and fading voices in the back of her head. Cautiously she touched the side of her face, wincing as her fingers found one of her bruises from yesterday. The room was empty albeit the new nurse on watch, leaving her only the ghost of a nightmare and a faint indent on the covers, faint enough to be mistaken for her imagination.

* * *

"I heard about the fight you got into. This won't be affecting your work, correct?" The commander stared pointedly at her. She already knew what a state she looked- bruised cheek, bandaged torso and stitches in her face were just the beginning.

"Of course not, _sir._"

If he heard the hiss, he ignored it. "The rest of the files you requested are on your bed. I hope that they prove fruitful- I'll be asking for an update in three days. If you need anything, ask for my secretary."

He left just like usual, mid conversation, air hissing through his teeth as he thought. Head held high, Iris walked back to her room, staring some of the recruits down when they passed her.

* * *

"I really wish they had google here..."

"Excuse me?"

Iris looked up sharply. Timmy stood in the doorway, looking around at her unclaimed room awkwardly. Setting the files aside, she patted the space next to her on the bed. "Hi Timmy." A twitch of his lips. "Sorry about the room change- I didn't want to risk any more run-ins. For _either_ of us." She looked at him with brows raised.

"Who were they?" The bed sank a bit as he sat down, looking three times bigger with the two inches he still towered above her with.

Images of six malicious snarls and a bloody face next to her flashed into mind, accompanied by the sickening crunch of fist against bone and a churning in her stomach. "Just some of the recruits. They got a bit jealous that I got the job and they didn't, even if none of them know the smallest detail of psychology or brain science. Stupid stuff, really."

He nodded, not catching her eyes. Looking down, she saw that his glove clad hands were curled into fists by his sides. She resisted the urge to unfold them, if not for them then for the safety of her thin walls and tired furniture.

"So...memory exercises. Has anything worked yet?" He hesitated before shaking his head. She looked on sceptically, forcing him to break. "Nothing that makes sense. Just faint images of people- I can't recognise them."

"Well, now that I know the outline of the procedures used, I can target those specific areas of your brain and memory. Ready?" Her smile forced a small one on to his face, a silent thumbs-up giving her the all go. Pushing all dreams of callused fingers and whispered voices out of her mind, she prepared herself for the onslaught of the next few days.

After all, her mission was to get back the memories of a memoriless man, and her deadline was in less than three days.

* * *

For as long as their timetables would allow them (though Iris' was mostly made up of gun practise and free time) they were in her room, trying to picklock their way into his head. Every time the name 'Timmy' left a lips with a smirk, the smile in his eyes grew more pronounced, and every time they passed in the corridors, both of them shared secretive looks. He was the last piece of reality tying her down here.

The day before deadline, Iris sat alone on her bed, trying to think of stuff to tell the commander when he requested to see her. Since no actual experimentation had taken place, her best bet was to say that the electrotherapy had been wearing down the walls in his memory instead of building them up, and she'd heard 'rumours' of a better technique back over in S.H.I.E.L.D. The only issue was whether or not he'd buy it.

Her flimsy door bashed open, a hand grabbing it before it could smash against the wall. The soldier- _Timmy_- stood in the doorway, his hair damp and tangled over the tops of the hastily thrown on uniform. Iris stared at him in shock, trying to recover her ability to speak.

"Er...wha...you...hi?"

"I just got a memory. Someone named 'Steve.' He's blonde, and shorter than me, but also taller, which is really confusing, because there's two of him and I can't figure out which one's the real one so-"

"Calm down, shut the door, and sit." She interrupted, glaring down a passing officer who looked in. Timmy did as she said, running his hands through the damp waves.

"I just don't...it was 1940! _1940!_ How is that even possible? How can I not remember so impossibly unimaginable?" His brown eyes widened, hands splayed as he ranted towards her. Sighing, his head dropped down. "What's wrong with me Iris?"

"You're crazy." She grinned at him. He smiled back uncertaintly, looking thoroughly horror-movie worthy.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Nah. Only the best people are insane."

His manic grin grew wider, forcing her to put her fingers on either side of his mouth and lower it to a more normal state, giggling all the while.

"Calm down Timmy. While you're here, would you mind helping me figure out what to say to the commander tomorrow? Or we could just get an early start on the memory-"

"Steve."

She glanced up, seeing his vacant eyes and confused frown.

"He was my best friend...like a brother...and I can't even remember his last name. I don't even know how he died!"

Recognising the raised voice and widening pupils, she tried to calm him down. "Timmy-"

"No. It's not Timmy."

He stared at her, a sparkle returning to his eyes. Iris looked on in awe as she realised what was happening, that all her little cracks were finally breaking down the walls inside of his head.

"It's James, Iris. James Barnes." A natural smirk wound its way on to his lips, one eye winking slyly. "But you can call me Bucky."

* * *

**_Author's Note _**

_Just remember that this is set in 2011! Little bit of an Alice in Wonderland quote there, though I don't think it's the actual words he used. Hope you guys like it- I'm rewatching The First Avenger tonight so I can get Bucky ready inside my head ;)_


	7. Ruse

"I was born in Brooklyn. When the war broke out, we both signed up. He signed up a lot. I got into the 107 regiment, and Steve...I don't really know what happened to Steve."

"That's okay." Iris smiled next to him, one hand on top of his in comfort. "We can't expect you to remember everything-"

"No, it's not that. I genuinely don't know what happened to him. Some sort of drug, like a permanent super steroid." He smiled down at her. His natural grin was slightly lopsided, tilting up more to his right than the left. "All I know is that HYDRA, the old one, caught me, Steve got me out, we destroyed a lot of their factories, and I fell."

She waited for him to continue. "You fell? That's the last thing you remember?"

He frowned at the wall opposite him. "Erm...it was snowy. Super cold. And my arm hurt. I can kinda see why now." His eyes flickered to the metal arm. She hastily threw a blanket over him, answering his questioning look with a simple 'it can wait.' He'd been through enough for one day.

"But no HYDRA secrets? Nothing that could get us out of here?" Her innards flinched at the clear desperation in her voice, but she ignored it nonetheless. It wasn't like it was a lie.

"Sorry, Iris. And did you really call me Timmy?" She nodded uncertainly. "I'm a brainwashed super soldier with a machine gun and two very large knives on my person, and you chose _Timmy_?" Heat rose in her cheeks as he laughed.

"Don't be mean. It was the first thing that came to mind."

Outside of the door, a group of people passed, their laughs and whispers silencing them for a few minutes. Tim- _Bucky_ looked at the flimsy wood in worry.

"What am I supposed to do? I have orders to complete in two days, and I can't exactly do them. Do I really look like someone fit to murder a billionaire?"

Iris frowned. For some reason his next target didn't seem realistic- with fame and fortune riding alongside his out-of-this-world technology, Tony Stark wasn't a guy you'd see getting killed by a ghost. "I don't know Ti- Bucky!" He smirked at the obvious mistake. "But I swear, I'll figure it out. Tonight. I'll figure it out tonight. Until then...act normal."

"And normal is?" He raised an eyebrow sceptically. There was a faint scar cutting through it, cleanly healed but raggedly cut.

"Just act like a robot and you'll be fine. That means no smirks, winking, or...just not you. Okay?"

A final roll of his eyes (she added that to list of 'what brainwashed super soldiers shouldn't do') and he got up to leave, his new but old attitude looking out of place with the long hair, skin tight black suit and handfuls of weapons. She bit her lip, wondering how they were going to get through this alive. While doing all those little memory exercises, she hadn't actually thought about what would happen if they worked. They just weren't meant to.

"See you later Iris. And..." He hesitated by the door, hands impatiently pushing strands of hair out of his eyes. "Be safe. Promise me you'll stay safe, right?"

A tiny bit of courage inside of her chest, she held out her pinky and waited for him to hook his around it. "Pinky promise. And right back 'atcha, soldier." Standing on her tiptoes, she delicately kissed his cheek, ignoring the heat on her own as she pushed him outside. Her back hit the door, letting her slump to the floor with her head in her hands.

Now all she had left to do was finish up a ruse for her 'commander', and figure out an escape plan out of an impenetrable lair.

* * *

It was absurd, and had a lot more probably not's than probably so's, but it was a plan. And they were going to make it work.

* * *

The next morning, Iris ignored the green bruises on her cheek and the new blood encrusted on the stitches over the scratch marks, leaving her room in search of Buc- Tim- soldi- _that guy._ It took less than five minutes to spot the familiar long hair and black suit in a corridor near the weapon's room. With the rest of the corridor empty and the security cameras without sound, she decided to risk using his 'code name'. "Timmy! Timmy, I figured-"

He carried on walking. She checked around again, trying to catch up to him without looking suspicious.

"Timmy? Erm..." Another glance. "Oi! Bucky! Are you listening to me?" Her hand grabbed his arm, forcing him to face her. He stared at her with black eyes. _Indifferent. _

She was pelting away from him, sprinting down the endless corridors, ignoring the looks and shouts which trailed after her.

She passed her room, just registering the overturned bed and ripped pieces of paper.

Her feet kept on pounding in an ever-growing rhythm, forcing her down a final hall and gasping into that small room with the stupid desk and the stupid fringe plastered to his stupid forehead.

"Miss Williams. I was wondering when you would make it." He smirked, two of his men immediately stepping behind her and locking her hands together. It didn't matter; she wasn't going to fight back.

"Why? Please, just tell me why? He was back, he was okay, so why?" He leaned against the desk, eyes as black as the soldier's, despite their obvious blue tint.

"Why? _Because he was back._" He snarled. Her legs finally crumbled, bile crawling up her throat and spewing out on to the floor. One of his men stepped back to avoid the spray.

"Take her away. Oh, and Miss Williams?" She looked up, waiting for him to say it. To tell her that the deal was off and her siblings were here, waiting to see their traitor sister one last time before they died. "You can call me Alexander Pierce."

A smirk. A turned back. A flash of recognition. Another retch. A thunk to the back of her head, finally letting everything just disappear.

* * *

**_Author's Note_**

_Thanks for the awesome reviews- I haven't gotten around to answering them, but I'll try to soon. Quick (and early) update because the next chapter is hopefully going to be big one on the word count, and I want to finish it sooner rather than later (I only have 4 more days until school!) Keep on reading and reviewing- I love hearing your opinions on Iris and Bucky :)_


	8. Torture

**WARNING-** as the title would suggest, this chapter does contain scenes of torture (not in depth though) and general ickiness for Iris (and Bucky actually)

* * *

"You work for SHIELD."

"Everyone works for SHIELD, Iris, whether you signed the papers or not."

"Where is he?"

"Frozen. Mr Stark will live for yet another day."

"What are you going to do to me?"

He smirked once more from his stance across the room. Blood had matted itself into the back of her hair, lips drying with every shaky breath.

"I'm going to let you live."

* * *

His 'friend' was called Sergeant Rowell, and he was currently preparing himself for her torture.

"It's nothing personal," he said, "it's just my orders. Don't worry- it'll be over soon, and then you can go."

It started with her stomach, just like the recruits did. A few punches around her head until the commander reminded him that he wanted her tortured, not bullied.

Needles in her fingers. Skin ripped from her skull. Screams echoing around the small room. She wasn't scared of them; the noise was for her own comfort. To remind her that she was still alive, and they didn't have him just yet.

It ended with a sad look and a hammer to her knees, to which she promptly passed out. Even in her sleep, she could feel the nerves in her legs and hear the whimpers in her throat.

* * *

"Are you healing well?" Pierce asked once he was seated opposite her. She stared at him through blank eyes, ignoring the thumping of blood underneath her lips and the bandages on her legs. A glass of water sat untouched on the table.

"Why did you take his memories away in the first place?" Straight to the point. No time for dawdling.

"He wouldn't have served us otherwise."

"There are other ways though. Safer ways. _I_ served you. Why break him and not me?"

"Oh Iris." He sighed mockingly, nodding at the man who brought in an old TV, passing a tape to Pierce. Her eyes narrowed, knowing that they'd grown tired of physical torture once they realised there was no goal in it. Pain might make her scream and pain might make her weak, but pain was never going to break her into submission, just like pain was never going to work with him. _Bucky._

"He was a broken man long before we got to him. Do you want to see the footage?" Her stomach clenched unnaturally as he played with the tape. _All I know is that HYDRA, the old one, caught me..._ "Here at HYDRA, we like to keep our records in order." The tape slid into the TV. She choked back a sob as his image came on to the screen, a shorter haired Bucky lying strapped to a table unconscious.

They started with simple samples. Blood tests, DNA. When he woke up, they quickly beat him back to sleep. A doctor arrived with a sour faced man who nodded at the cluster of men, sending them away. He stared down at Bucky, half-listening to the words spilling from the doctor's mouth. There was no sound.

The man left with a single instruction, leaving the doctor alone. He looked at Bucky with sympathy as he woke, fighting against the new straps holding him down. The doctor collected a syringe and a bottle filled with a murky substance. Bucky shouted as it was injected into his arm, his mouth screaming right until the moment he passed out. The doctor sighed, taking his pulse with knowing eyes. Another check. A wide-eyed expression.

Pierce fast-forwarded to where Bucky had reawakened. The sour-faced man had returned with the doctor, both watching as one of their soldiers approached him and withdrew a knife. A long cut down his chest. The blood covered it up, making the change just out of vision. But there was Pierce, zooming in, letting her see the cut as a single layer of skin varnished over the top of it, preventing any more blood from pulsating out of him.

_He had survived the fall due to the alien substances in his blood_.

"Alien."

"Nearly. Not quite human though. Now if you excuse me, I still have to eat. But please, carry on watching- you're nearly at the good part."

She didn't register his departure with her eyes, staying focused on the screen. The sour-faced man smiled, his long fingers trailing delicately over the new skin. Bucky stared down in horror. He snapped another order at the torturer, standing back as the knife traced more lines across his skin, each one getting deeper and deeper until the flesh was peeling away from each other. Bucky's eyes began to glaze over as the hours passed, more substances being pumped into him while blood was ripped out. If there had been noise, she'd be hearing his shouts of submission, along with the background noise of screams from other prisoners, the substances burning their veins away.

_He was a broken man long before we got to him._

Underneath her breath, she whispered "technically it was still you who broke him- 70 years doesn't change the fact that it was HYDRA."

When Pierce glanced at her through the one-way window at the side of the room, he barely caught the familiar smirk and sparkling eyes before they was gone.

Indifferent.

* * *

"Are you going to talk?" He asked from across the table. A half drank cup of water sat in between them. She grinned, seeing the fear flash through his eyes before she spoke.

"Why should I? I don't work for you." She lent in, her words mere hisses in the air. "I work for S.H.I.E.L.D.. Papers or no papers."

He snarled, leaving the room in a fit of anger. The grin disappeared from her face as she thought of fists and video tapes and trays of weapons.

Behind her the door opened. Someone clicked her cuffs open, letting her rub her wrists free of pain.

The relief was short-lived.

* * *

Her skin was on fire, each knife peeling up more and more flesh and blood as the night went on.

Somebody was pulling on her hair, telling her that she wasn't good enough.

The Soldier stood in the corner of the room, watching her through cold eyes. Every other version she'd seen of him stood in the background, fading away to echoes.

Whenever she woke up following the nightmares, she was alone in her prison room. Walking still made her cringe. Noises still made her jump. Brown hair still made her cry.

_"I thought you were dead."_

_"I thought you were smaller."_

* * *

He was released once. She passed him in the corridor and stood watching him as he walked away.

It took five minutes of waiting until she was sure she wasn't going to cry.

* * *

2012. The ceiling shook as New York screamed, Loki cackling above them (at least that was how she pictured it) One of the papers found it's way into her hands, pictures of the heroes plastered across every page.

"Rogers. His last name was Rogers." She whispered into the empty room, as if there was some part of him back in that freezer that could still hear her, no matter how many walls separated them.

* * *

"Miss Williams?"

She looked up at the wary soldier in her doorway. In her lap was the files she was meant to be checking for HYDRA on two of their newest recruits- twins with 'magical' abilities; underneath her pillow was the collection of newspapers she's gathered, each containing a new story on the Avengers or SHIELD, one even showing a picture of her sister while clearing up London after Thor.

"The commander wishes to see you."

She smirked despite herself. "His name is Alexander Pierce, soldier. Don't let him tell you anything else." Still she followed down the familiar twists and turns of the corridors, her slight limp almost invisible to the eye.

It was 2014.

* * *

**_Author's Note_**

_I decided to split the chapter into two to help it make more sense, adding that little chapter up there for time stuff. Thanks for your reviews and support, especially NotMarge and DarkHorseBlueSky!_

_Anyway, I was thinking of a sequel. I'm doing it either way (because who can resist?) but I just wanted to see how many of you would read it. A lot of people are doing post-Winter Soldier stories with their version of the next movie, but the difference of mine will be that it will have our lovely Iris here in it ;) (prepare for fluffiness)_

_If you don't like the idea, unhappy face :( in your well appreciated review (if you want) If you do like the idea, happy face :) and maybe a suggestion for the title? Thanks! :)_


	9. Endings

The police opened fire, a few removing the larger gun from their van. Fury, the target, stared at them in horror, trapped inside of his car.

They weren't exactly being discreet. A large audience had gathered, with a few close casualties from stray bullets and swerving cars. Keeping his temper under control, he waited. The police didn't know it, but Fury was nearly ready to escape. Three. Two. One...and chase.

His boots clanked on the stairs as he casually jogged down the building and to the road he'd predicted Fury would emerge from. The city was riddled with traffic jams, and this road was the easiest way out of the city right now, with the least amount of casualties and witnesses as well. The car appeared, Fury's eyes not paying attention on the man in black until he stood in the centre of the road.

The new magnetic grenade slid perfectly underneath the car, attaching itself to the bottom seconds before detonation. It flipped, landing just out of reach of a few passer-bys. They stared on in horror as he approached, cocking his gun in preparation.

Fury was gone, leaving a still sizzling hole behind in the road.

S.H.I.E.L.D. was better than he expected.

He tracked him down to the small apartment, waiting patiently for him to get up and into his line of vision. The light turned on, revealing a broad, blonde-haired man staring puzzled at something out of sight.

He waited.

Fury appeared. Without hesitation he fired the gun through the wall and knocking him down.

_Target down._

The blonde man was chasing him. So close to the edge of the roof, nearly able to jump-

Something flew through the air behind him, his metal arm automatically swinging out to catch it. His eyes caught a pair of blue.

And then he jumped.

* * *

He waited in darkness for him to come. When their eyes met, there was no fear. That had been lost many years ago.

"Want some milk?"

Two bullets, one scream. Still no fear.

* * *

He'd been following the targets for a while now. There was three of them, and armed with a few men behind his back, they should have been easy to catch. But they had S.H.I.E.L.D. written all over them.

With his goggles already damaged due to the red-haired woman, he was now left fighting the same man as last night, blocking the lightweight shield as best as he could. The air started rattling around them. _Helicopters._

Turning away, the man grabbed his mask and stepped back.

"Bucky?"

Blonde hair. Red skin. Outstretched hand.

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

* * *

The commander looked at him warily as he entered the room, not even looking at the soldier lying unconscious and bleeding next to the wall.

_Steve...no, Howard...Steve. Roger. Steve. James. Roger. Steve._

"But I knew him." He frowned, interrupting the commander's flow of 'he was just a target' and 'look at the bigger picture'. He sighed at him, giving his men a silent order.

A surge of energy rushed into his head, blanking out any previous thoughts. _You know...Steve...Bucky...who the...Roger..._

From the corner of the room, Iris watched with silent screams, trying to banish the picture of Bucky Barnes flailing and shouting as he disappeared once more.

* * *

"You're my friend!"

_Bucky? Who the hell is Bucky?_

"You're my mission." He growled, letting his fists rain across the target's face. Just another stupid soldier caught in a war they'll never win.

One punch before he finished the mission, he paused. Looked at the limp arms and slumped shoulders. _He'd surrendered_.

"Then finish it..." Blood dribbled from his open lips. "Cause I'm with you till the end of the line."

He waited until the body was under the water to jump, and until he was sure he was alive to walk away.

* * *

HYDRA was finished. Pierce was dead. The Winter Soldier had run away.

Iris grinned as she readied herself in the weapon's room, knowing that despite it all, she'd still have to fight her way out of here.

"You..." A man snarled from behind her. She turned, the smile not leaving her lips.

"Oh. Hi Sergeant Rowell! Or is it just Adam now?" The fury was evident in his face at her reply.

"You're the reason our soldier fucked up. You're the reason we failed!"

Suddenly he was on her, hand wrapped around her wrists to stop her from escaping. He hit her face again and again, laughing manically as he paused. "Oh, and your sister? She's one hell of a fighter. Took a whole three bullets for me to catch her. Pretty one, too."

He carried on laughing until the gunshot echoed around the room. His grip slackened, eyes looking down to the red blossoming on his shirt.

"It's genetic." She replied dryly, pushing his body to the floor. Blood spilled over his lips, but she refused to look, opting to shove some more ammo and grenades into the bag and disappear, just like he had.

_'Don't worry Bucky,'_ she thought to herself, ignoring the tremor under her feet as the HYDRA lair exploded twenty feet underground, '_I'm coming to get you.'_

* * *

The halls were clustered, whispered words of heroic tales. Little kids ran circles around old men with memories in their eyes.

**James 'Bucky' Barnes**.

Short hair to long. Sparkling eyes to dull. No future to _the_ future.

_It's time to wake up, soldier._

* * *

**_Author's Note _**

_MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I guess you will just have to wait for the sequel to find out what happens next ;) Also, any suggestions for the name of the sequel are welcome. I have 'Out of Mind', but still unsure...Thanks for all your awesomeness during this story! Anybody else ready for the Age of Ultron countdown?_

_P.S. The last part is a reference to the final credit scene in TWS. I didn't get to see it in the cinema because there wasn't enough time to wait, but I got the gist of it. Hope it's sort of correct :)_

_**EDIT 24/4/2014-**__ So it turns out genetical isn't an actual word...whoops..._


End file.
